


DA034: Dazed and Confused

by Rhion



Series: KMEME Prompts [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhion/pseuds/Rhion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short, general audience friendly kmeme prompts for fluff. Zevran/F!Tabris</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Restless Confusion and Silent Vows

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Filled for kmeme prompt,  
> 'F!Warden is stressed out and tired and ends up falling asleep on Zevran. Cue Zevran dealing with impossible feelings of tenderness and freaking out about them.'  
> Didn’t mean to do it, but saw it and instantly felt compelled to fill it. Blah.  
> Warnings: Sugar, sugar, sugar. But they are alone, and there’s no one to see.

They were alone on watch, but for Ser Prize who had provided his heavily muscled flank as a backrest. Though the mabari was asleep, he was no less alert. It was something the assassin could appreciate, because he himself was failing in his post this evening, for his attention was focused elsewhere. Namely on Tylah Tabris, who normally would be the first up, and the last asleep. Cinnamon brown hair was drawn back into two small tails at the nape of her neck, raggedly cut with a dull knife it seemed. Sometimes he wondered what it had been like, what _she_ had been like before becoming a Warden. There was a story there, one he hoped she might share with him, one that might explain the reason why she was always so aloof. Perhaps at one point those short, stubby tails of hair had been long, framing her face and softening its edges. 

Under most circumstances he had to be more roundabout in his appraisal of their erstwhile leader. This night though, this night, when she had sat by him, probing questions, listening intently - she had fallen asleep. Sleep was a rare commodity for Wardens, this he knew from watching both Alistair and Tylah, and sleep was a rare commodity for Tylah herself. So when he had caught her eyes blinking sleepily, he had turned his voice softer, soothing, speaking of the water gardens, and the songs the fountains sang, tinkling and burbling in the gardens of Antiva City. He had spoken of the carved stone butterflies and birds that were placed ingeniously over and around flowerbeds and bushes so that they looked like real creatures, rather than stone. Of figs and dates and citrus on the warm breezes, dancing as they did. To those images and his voice she had slipped into slumber, her head sliding onto his shoulder. 

Gently, Zevran scooted, lowering her so that she could lay her cheek on his thigh, and adjusted her cloak into a blanket as she curled up beside him in a kittenish ball. It was funny, the wary young woman fell asleep with one of the people who was most dangerous in their camp, as though it were nothing. He wasn't entirely sure when it had happened, when his thoughts on getting her alone had gone from ideas of how to carry out his contract, to lust, to _this._

Whatever this was.

Stroking her cheek with a calloused thumb, Zevran stared, unabashedly, without heat, at the way her face relaxed and crinkled as dreams flittered behind those closed lids. Careful to not disturb her, the assassin unwound the leather thongs that held her hair back, smoothing the chopped locks around her face. When he was finished, he saw a glimpse of the girl, the woman, and all absence of the Warden. There was something about this moment that made his insides lurch, a pain that was sweet. If he were a more poetic sort, he would think that it could be love. But he was born in a brothel, raised on blood and death, a killer from the very moment of birth - what would _he_ know, let alone understand, about love?

And yet....

And yet, no matter that in battle she assigned him tasks, and tactics to use, more often than not he broke them. He didn't care that the others always listened, always did as she commanded. _He_ couldn't. Not when ogres bore down on her, not when Flemeth had reared her ugly head, ready to spit flame. Each time he would shove her aside, or dance into the path of danger, taunting or taking the brunt, no matter his thin leathers. He would run into the damage, instead of rolling away from the blows. How many times had Wynne had to heal huge rents in his flesh? How many sets of armor had he gone through or had to repair time and again? Zevran couldn't stop himself, and wasn't sure he even wanted to.

Sighing, he traced a scar that was on her brow, wishing he could smooth it away. Wishing he had been there to stop whatever had caused it. The bards and poets claimed love was some huge thing that made it impossible to breathe and filled one with joy. That couldn't be what he was feeling, for it was terror he felt, terror at every grunt or growl of darkspawn, at the mere thought of anything seeking to lay a mark on her. Tylah was to be protected, and yet she was a more than capable fighter herself. There was no reason, at least not logically, for him to do what he did in his crazed attempts to guard her. _She_ wore heavy chain, _she_ wielded axes and huge swords that even made Sten look small in comparison. 

It didn't change the fact that he would do _anything_ to keep her from harm. Just to have a chance to see her sleep peacefully like _this_. Zevran was confused, and had been since she spared his life, as from day one she had merely accepted his word and presence, putting few restrictions on him. This was the freest he had ever been in his whole life, and at the same time he was _chained_. Chained to the sleeping body that slept so trustingly beside him.

Licking his lips, Zevran leaned down awkwardly, and lay a kiss on the corner of Tylah's jaw. In her sleep, she let out a soft sigh, rubbing her face over his thigh, hand wrapping over his knee. Perhaps he would find the courage to ask her what it was he was feeling. But last time he had felt even a shadow of the riot that was currently going on inside him, someone had died. Zevran vowed that he would take his own life before he would allow that to happen again. That much he could do, that much he could understand.

He had made too much noise, crowded her too much he realized, as Tylah yawned, snuffling as she twisted, rubbing her nose into his leg. "Mmmn?"

"Shh, rest my Warden," whispering near her ear.

"Zev...?" mumbling as she rolled over, blinking large, soft gray eyes up at him. "I fell asleep?" Tylah asked him, beginning to sit up.

"Shh, it is alright." Zevran tried to push her shoulder down, urging her to return to her slumber.

Tylah frowned up at him, and he knew his thoughts were plain to see on his face. "What's wrong?"

Forcing himself to smile, he shook his head. "It is nothing my fair Warden."

Calloused fingers, rough pads moved to his cheek, touching him lightly. "No, tell me what's wrong."

Grabbing her hand, he pressed a quick, daring kiss to her palm. "As I said, it is nothing. I have merely been thinking, as you rested."

"Dark thoughts - I'm sorry I left you alone with them." He allowed her to finish sitting up, and he was grateful she ignored his presumption of helping her rise more easily. "You were telling me about Antiva, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stir up bad memories."

Snorting faintly at the idea that talking about Antiva had stirred him up, Zevran shook his head, letting his hand linger on the small of her back. "Again, I say it was nothing. Please, cease worrying over such trivial matters as a few memories."

Her lips pursed in a fashion that Zevran had found most endearing, and enticing. Each time she did it, all he wanted to do was taste them, to see if they were flavored like the raspberries they so resembled. And as alone as they were, with her looking at him like that, a worried little knot crinkling her brow - it took a monumental effort to resist the urge. 

"But I do worry." Tylah's hand was warm as she pressed her palm to his cheek. "You've had so many bad things...." she stopped, blushing, as she probably realized what she had just said, what she had just done.

"Ah, it's not so bad, life isn't all about doom and gloom my dear, there are good moments and bad ones," demurring as he sought to quash her obvious discomfort. "Especially right now - I am beholden to a kind, compassionate as well as lovely sex goddess."

Tylah rolled her eyes at him and leaned away, breaking the spell. "Lovely is it now? Really?"

Grabbing her hand again, Zevran felt an upwelling of panic, not wishing to push her away, not willing to give up. "Lovely yes, beautiful, you glow. Surely you are aware that when you smile everything lights up?"

She gave him an odd look, uncertainty written over her face. "Now you're mocking me."

"No, no I do not mock, I do not jest, not in this, dear Tylah," licking his lips nervously as he spouted off such nonsense.

The Warden's eyes snapped onto his face at the use of her name. "You think so?"

"Yes, I think so, I know so." He squeezed her strong hand between his, feeling every inch the fool, but wanting her to not discount her effect on him.

"Do you stare at everyone like this?" 

"No," answering simply, any flippant reply fleeing under the intensity of her gaze. "Just you."

"Why?" Confusion, earnestness, that flash of pain that was sometimes in her expression, well hidden, but he always saw it.

Swallowing, he forced a smile. "Because you are worth looking at. Is that so strange? I can stop if you wish, though it would be most difficult."

"No, no it's-it's nice, I kind of like it," the brash Warden was long gone, and all that was beside him was Tylah. A 'simple' Alienage girl.

Zevran liked that, and wanted more. Hoped he had a chance to have more. To earn more, no matter the riot of confusion. But whatever it took, Zevran would do anything to have more moments like this, to be allowed to see Tylah, and not just the Warden Tylah. However he would have to ease off, not chase her away. Releasing her hand with great reluctance, Zevran spun a yarn, telling stories of Antiva. They may not have all the time in the world, but they had enough time for him to go slowly. And maybe the bands that were crushing his chest would ease up at some point. For now, he would do his best to give her a person to just be Tylah with. 

And he could try to be just Zevran for once.


	2. 032: Sleepy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: 'I want fluff with Zevran. F!Warden is stressed, depressed, and /tired/; she slumps down next to Zevran and falls asleep on his shoulder and/or head in his lap.
> 
> Zevran can do sex like nobody else, but trust and tenderness towards someone is a different kettle of fish.
> 
> Bonus points for hair stroking and death glares for other companions that wake his warden.'

Again, Tylah had fallen asleep on him - and it was only dinnertime. Sighing, Zevran shifted, sliding his arm around her waist as he hunkered down against Ser Prize. He wasn't sure if this was a distressing habit, or merely... endearing. Taking her bowl of half-eaten stew from the lax grip she held it in, Zevran set it aside. The others were still focused on their meals, and talking in a low hum, and Zevran barely paid any attention to it. What did their nattering matter to him? He had better things to do.

Like try to figure out why it was that he was thinking about carrying Tylah's sleeping form to his tent, and laying her out - but not so he could have sex with her, rather he would like to... hold her and join her in sleep. Tucking his chin down to look at how her features had gone soft, cheek smooshed against his chest, and of course the tell-tale traveling hand that had found its way to his thigh, fingers flexing as she clutched it, making him smile faintly at the sight. Covering her cheek in a soft caress, he forgot they weren't alone, his focus narrowing. 

Today had been one of those days when he wound up rushing in front of her, drawing many attacks along the way. He still had the bruises to prove it. In the end it had gone well, as Tylah had swept in after him, swinging her two-handed sword as if it were weightless, between the two of them, they had taken the brunt, leaving the others to mop up the stragglers. Of course the heaviness of the armor Tylah wore on her tiny frame added to her fatigue and that was most likely the only reason she had fallen asleep on him for the second night running. Zevran would enjoy it as much as he could, while he could. 

"Hey - watch it there!" Alistair's voice took on a sharp note, making Zevran's head jerk up from his inspection of Tylah's sweet face. "Don't think I don't see what you're doing!"

It took every ounce of self-control to not snarl at the jealous, lumbering _shem_ , but Zevran managed it, keeping his voice frostily arch. "And what might I be doing, my dear Alistair?"

Tylah made a tiny sound in her sleep, restlessly curling closer to him, and tucking her face into his chest. Zevran shushed her, cupping the back of her head and stroking it slowly, while he shot a dark glower at Alistair. Generally the almost-Templar didn't pick up on such subtle cues, but this time he did. Probably because Leliana smacked his shoulder, sending him a glare of her own. 

Zevran waited until Tylah was fully back asleep before changing his grasp on her, slowly lifting her up so he could put her to bed. Where she belonged. In her tent. Not his. Which was where he wound up taking her anyway. Sighing at his foolishness, the Crow set her down as gently as he could after having to half wriggle with her in his arms to enter the canvas tent. That was the easy part, the hard part was prying her clutching fingers from his tunic so he could remove their boots and tuck the covers over her. It took some doing, but he obtained his objective, and he thought he was in the clear as he settled down beside her.

Well he wasn't.

Her eyes were open, he could see the whites of her eyes in the faint ruddy light that shone through the tent's walls. "Ah, Warden - let me explain..."

"Shh," she whispered, and he felt chagrined, wanting nothing more than to stutter out apologies, as this was a most awkward situation, caught staring, caught taking her to his bed, caught taking _liberties_ with where his hand was placed just shy of her rump. "Did I fall asleep on you again?"

Shifting around uncomfortably, Zevran nodded. "It was a long day, you were tired."

"Long for you too," Tylah tucked in close, so they were nose to nose, and he felt her warm breath puffing over his mouth as she spoke.

Zevran couldn't help chuckling at that. "Yes, but I do not wear armor that weighs as much as I do or swing around a sword that is taller than me. While you do both."

Tylah's reply was cut off with a yawn that she quickly muffled in his shoulder. Taking the opportunity to wrap his other arm around her, Zevran tucked his chin over her head. Crows didn't _sleep_ with people, it was one of the unspoken tenets - to sleep with someone was just asking for an attack. And yet right at this moment, it was all he wanted to do. To curl into her as she was curling into him, her toned legs tangling with his as though it were the most natural thing ever. 

"Your heart's beating fast," her mumbling lips were kissing him as she spoke, right against the base of his throat. "Is something wrong?"

"Ah, no. No, nothing is wrong, dear Tylah," he averred, swallowing down his nervousness.

The Warden shifted in his embrace, wiggling up against him in the most distracting of fashions. Distraction - it was the only reason he could justify her taking him unawares. Raspberry colored lips brushed over the corner of his mouth, fingers brushed over his temple, and she pressed her cheek to his, all of which made him shiver. 

She then did the most curious thing, petting fingers sliding over the side of his head, distracting press of her body to his, and the oddity - the tip of her nose rubbing over his as she whispered, "Then sleep."


	3. 033: Let's Just Be Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt goes like this: 'As he develops feelings for the warden, Zevran starts to get very jealous and possessive. Maybe it happens during the threesome with Isabella or maybe someone hits on the Warden and Zev goes like "RAWR MINE!"
> 
> Every warden is fine, although M!Cousland is my fav match for Zev.'
> 
> So, this is neither slash, nor a Cousland. Some of ya’ll are very familiar with why I won’t write one, so yeah. As for slash, there’s already plenty of it for Zev, so, het it is. Besides, Tylah and this Squish!Zev are just too cute.

XXX  
At Redcliffe....  
XXX

He really was starting to not like the way everyone kept looking at Tylah.... as though she were just a simple piece of _meat_ and nothing more than a collection of assets like her bountiful bosom, lean legs, sweet face, and merry laughter. Though, he did have to admit that this particular set of armor really made her legs look divine.... Snapping his gaze from where it had been sitting when Bann Teagan lay a hand on her shoulder, making some _proclamation_ or other, Zevran had to stifle the urge to growl. At least later in the evening, he knew she would fall asleep on _his_ shoulder rather than Teagan’s.

It was a small consolation. 

Stalking along beside her faithfully, the assassin began to tally up all those who kept looking at _his_ Warden. Never mind the fact that they had done nothing other than _sleep_ together. Or the occasional kiss on the cheek she gave him. Those tiny things would bolster him for hours, days even, except when some presumptuous ass would reach out and touch her. Tylah was glorious, and formidable, and sweet. For the most part. But these _people_ not a one of them could keep their eyes in their heads, as if seeing a beautiful, elven woman in armor was extremely rare. Well, Zevran supposed it was rare.

Nevertheless - he really wished people would stop staring at her like that. 

XXX  
At the Pearl....  
XXX

“Oh? And what do you propose instead of Wicked Grace to get to know you?” Isabella was sultry enough, but in comparison, Zevran found her leaving him cold. 

Other than, of course, his reflexive flirting, one couldn’t undo cultural habits, and besides, it was part of his charm. However, when it became obvious that his Warden wasn’t cluing in to the pirate captain’s none-too-subtle hints, Zevran grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. He didn’t like the way Isabella was eyeing himself, or Tylah, overmuch. “Perhaps we have other things to do right now?”

Tylah’s nose crinkled in confusion, then nodded. “You’re right, Zevran. Captain Isabella, I’m sorry but we have a few other matters to attend to right now.”

Isabella cast him a glance, a perfectly groomed brow arching high on her head. “Oh? Well, do remember that I am here any time you should change your mind...”

XXX  
At camp....  
XXX

Tylah looked exhausted, so when dinner came, Zevran had set aside their dinners, and spread out his cloak for them to sit upon when she was ready. However at the moment she was making her usual rounds, bolstering morale and being her usual meticulous self. Ser Prize woofed at him, wiggling his stubby bottom before flopping down in his usual spot so that the prerequisite petting and ear scratching could commence. Chuckling to himself, the Crow honored his treaty with the massive mabari, who pressed his cold, wet nose to Zevran’s hand and gave it a happy slurp. 

Stretching out, Zevran leaned against Ser Prize’s flank, legs crossed at the ankles, awaiting their mistress’ pleasure. Glancing around the camp he noted Leliana shifting nervously, her hands clasped before her. Frowning, the Crow let his ears perk up, focusing on picking out the thread of conversation.

“...I can’t help but think about how soft and warm my bedroll is....” the bard’s voice took on that cloyingly coy tone that made his hackles rise.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t keep you,” Tylah replied, utterly clueless as to what was going on. “I thought you might want to talk more? But that’s alright, I really shouldn’t keep you if you’re tired, you work so hard.”

Growling in the back of his throat, Zevran glared across the campfire at the bard who seemed determined to con his Warden to her bed. “Oh no, I still wish to talk with you.”

Tylah was completely oblivious, even still. “What about?”

“I thought perhaps you could join me in my tent so we could talk further.....” which was a line that was about as subtle as a frying pan on the side of the head. “I could show you my collection of pressed flowers.” And _that_ line was cringe-worthy at best, and downright tactless at worst.

“Oh! I didn’t know you collected flowers! They must be so pretty,” Tylah’s voice rang with that earnest sweetness that made him want nothing more than to grab her and shield her from the rest of the world.

Zevran almost laughed when he noted Leliana’s expression, even from here it looked rather... put out. “Ah, no. I don’t. Stop pretending you don’t know what I want.”

Tylah’s confusion was evident even from here. “But, I don’t...? I’m not really sure what’s going on, and what I did to upset you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh.” Zevran almost felt bad for the bard. Almost. “Well, I want you to come spend the night with me.”

Tylah’s embarrassment was a tangible thing as she put her hands to her face, stuttering out, right before she ran away, “Oh, I’m so sorry Leliana.... I... I... I didn’t know you felt that way, I.. I’m sorry.”

Later that night, Tylah was curled into a ball hiding behind him, shame-faced. “I didn’t know she liked me like that.”

Rolling over, Zevran sighed. “She tends to be as subtle and gentle as she can. It’s no fault of yours that you didn’t pick up on that.”

Tylah curled closer, resting her head on his pillow. “You’re a really good friend Zevran, I don’t know what I’d do without you, I really don’t.”

Chuckling, Zevran tugged at the collar of his shirt to loosen the ties. “Probably sleep in your own pallet.”

“Oh, I’m... I’ll just go.” More embarrassment, and that wasn’t what Zevran wanted.

Draping his arm over her, he pulled her to lay back down. “No, no, dear Tylah. Stay. You seem to actually sleep when you’re here.”

XXX  
On the road...  
XXX

“So, uh, you’re a woman right?” Ogrehn’s stench of booze made Zevran wave his hand in front of his nose, the stink intensifying when the dwarf spoke.

Tylah laughed brightly. “Last time I checked, yeah, sure.”

“Hurr-hurr-hurr. Betcha ain’t never had a good soddin’ roll huh?” A thunderous belch heralded a cloud of noxious fumes. “Tell ya what Warden, I’ll grease up the ol’bronto, and I’ll show ya what a real man can do.”

Zevran didn’t stop the growl from bubbling up this time, and only narrowly stopped himself from booting the foul little man over. _This_ called for intervention. “Ogrehn! Look at the sky, it’s so high, is it not?”

“Hey, elf, you, urp,” the dwarf gagged, one long arm flailing out.

Feeling righteously indignant, Zevran pressed on, dropping a hand onto the dwarf’s shoulder. “I just, I never thought on it much. Not long ago you had the surety of a mountain overhead, to keep you from falling up into the sky... Ahh.... and truly, this place - it must be a lesson in _humility_. Chairs too high, tables just out of reach.... and my, just think on going to the privy!”

“You shut up, you soddin’ elf! Say no more, or, or I’ll gut ya, umphurg,” more gagging, and the foul redhead staggered away.

Tylah shot him a half-amused, half-cross look as the sounds of a stomach being voided came. “That wasn’t nice.”

Shrugging eloquently, Zevran smiled sweetly and without a hint of guile. “It had just occurred to me, that is all my fair Warden.”

“Uh-huh, try another one,” she said swatting his shoulder. “Seriously, I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Grinning at her, Zevran bumped her armored shoulder with his. “Because I’m a good friend?”

Tylah rolled her eyes at him, returning the jostle. “The best.”

XXX  
With the Dalish....  
XXX

“You know, it occurs to me that you’ve never had any of the good things that come with being a Warden,” Alistair was shuffling, a rose clenched in hand.

Zevran paused, holding his breath. He had _known_ that the _shem_ had designs on Tylah, but Zevran had hoped that he wouldn’t find the spine to say anything. Let alone to bring a _rose_ as a token. Clenching his teeth and fists, Zevran fought roaring in and shoving the large Templar away who was shifting from foot to foot before Tylah.

“Oh I don’t know, every day starts bright and early, with a nice bit of variation. Never know if it’ll be werewolves, trees, bandits, undead or darkspawn out trying to kill us!” Tylah laughed with her usual verve. “Anyway, being a Warden came with having you and the others, as part of my life. So, that sounds pretty good to me!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the assassin shook his head, moving behind a tree so as not to be noticed. 

“Well, ah, thanks, I, ah, feel the same way.. and-here-I-want-you-to-have-this-rose,” saying as he shoved the perfect bloom at Tylah.

Making a face, Zevran winced. This wasn’t going to end well. For Alistair hopefully, and not himself. It would be beyond annoying if Tylah accepted the rose... which she was doing. If it weren’t for Tylah’s shocked and muffled sound of distressed surprise when Alistair leaned down, holding her head clumsily in his hands and kissed her, Zevran would have been murderous. As it stood, he was really just very angry. Why did _everybody_ feel it was appropriate to touch, look at, or in general accost _his_ Tylah? It was _his_ shoulder she frequently passed out on, it was _his_ tent she spent time in when not in her own, and it was _his_ cheek she kissed before bed during those magical moments he was able to share with her. 

“Ah, was that too soon?” Sheepish and blushing like a sickeningly adorable tomato, Alistair rubbed the back of his head. 

The very head that Zevran wished to cut off. Well, actually, no. He wanted to cut off the other head that Alistair was no doubt thinking with. Along with those presumptuous hands, and rip out those eyes for good measure. Perhaps give him a sign to wear about his neck proclaiming dire warnings for any who over-stepped their bounds might be an excellent idea. And a cow bell for good measure.

Tylah held the rose out to him, her face flushed with chagrin. “Alistair, I’m sorry, I ah... I don’t feel that way about you. You’re like my brother, so um, please don’t do that again. Here’s your rose back.”

XXX  
Back at camp...  
XXX

He had his tent set up properly for company, and Zevran was well satisfied. There was a bowl of hot water holding a vial of scented oil of the very sort he used on his own sore muscles, a small trivet with a pot of tea, and his bedroll was spread out, adorned with two extra pillows he had purchased from the Feddics. All was in place and ready for his plans of the evening. Plans that pertained to sweet Tylah, her raspberry lips, cinnamon brown locks being freed of their their leather thong prisons, and clothes being mutually discarded.

However, he would not be allowed to be subtle, otherwise Tylah may not pick up on his advances. It rather galled him that to display his interest in no uncertain terms would require him being so... crude. And yet the bliss would be reward enough, along with the fact that if his efforts paid off Tylah would spend _all_ her nights in his tent instead of just _some_ nights; in his arms, nestled close where her breath coasting over his neck could lull him to sleep; that was where he wanted her. As much as he enjoyed the novelty of merely sleeping with another person, he would much rather try doing something _other_ than sleeping with her for once. It should be a proper outlet to express some of these odd feelings he held for her.

Giving the tent a last cursory glance, Zevran grinned gleefully and scuttled from his tent to find his Warden. 

Sneaking up behind her as she returned from one of those pleasant rarities that was a nice bath, Zevran plucked from her hand one of the leather strips she used to tie her hair. “Tchk, my dear Tylah, you look so tired.”

“ _Oooh!_ You move too quiet! Sneaky rogues! Should put a collar with a kitty bell on you to warn us poor warriors of impending doom.” Tylah turned on him hand reaching out, attempting to retrieve the leather strip that he held just out of reach. He watched as she sighed heavily and crossed her arms. “I didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“I know, my dear, I know,” purring at her as he dared to run a finger along her jaw. “I know what you need, though. I’ve just the thing.”

“You’ve bottled up a good night’s sleep and are willing to share?” Her expression was so hopeful, the bright pink of her lips wrapping about each word the way he wanted them to wrap about his tongue.

Laughing, Zevran stepped closer so that he caught the scent of water still upon her skin. “You could say that. I assure you, your rest afterwards would be deep.”

“Okay, I’m game!” Tylah almost bounced into him in her excitement. “So what’s this bottled up secret?”

Turning her towards the camp, he wrapped an arm about her waist. “I learned many things growing up in a whorehouse. Massage is one of the more... beneficial things. There are many techniques I learned from the whores, and I’ve not forgotten a one. I plan on showing you my _entire_ repertoire.”

Tylah leaned her head into his shoulder briefly. “You’re one of a kind you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever had a better friend than you.”

Warmth suffused him, and Zevran pulled her closer. “I’m glad you approve.”

Attaining his tent, he followed Tylah and turned to fasten the tents’ flaps closed. Then he shucked his boots and belt, turning towards Tylah to take the first steps. Instead of finding her ready to meet him, he saw her shimmying free of her smallclothes and getting ready to lay down. Biting his tongue, Zevran held in a sigh. However, he could work with this. Removing his shirt he grabbed the vial of warmed oil and poured some on his palms, working it over them enough to give him just a touch of slip. 

Straddling her thighs, Zevran winced at all the scars that patterned her body. In some ways they were attractive he mused, starting at the small of her back, feeling the knotted tension there. In other ways the scars were hideous. He put Tylah at mid-twenties at the oldest, and for her to be covered from head to toe already didn’t bode well. Especially as most of the scars still held hints of the pink of fresh healing. Beneath him, Tylah moaned, and Zevran worked harder on that particular bunched up muscle, digging the heels of his palms in and pushing the skin up and out. While the night wasn’t proceeding as quickly as he preferred, Zevran found that he couldn’t deny that he liked doing just this. Taking care of Tylah’s hurts in this manner was quite pleasing, about as much as when it was his wounds she took care of, instead of Wynne seeing to him. 

Working his way up to her shoulders, Zevran leaned down, whispering in her ear, “So tense you are my dear. Shall I continue?”

“Mmmpleasedoooooo,” groaning, Tylah shifted her head rolling a dazed eye back at him. 

“Your wish,” assenting, Zevran kissed her shoulder as she sighed.

More than an hour later Zevran was finally finished with her back and legs, and all he could reach of her front. So he began the next step, adding more oil, drizzling it directly along her spine. Stroking her flesh with light hands, he dipped, placing several soft kisses on her back as he merely caressed her. Tylah sighed dreamily, and he couldn’t help but smile, making his way over her hips with his hands slipping along, giving a light caress to her inner thighs and a nip to her waist. There was a tiny little groan as she rolled over and Zevran felt his already aching arousal flinch in anticipation. But it wasn’t to be, for when he moved to kiss from her hip up her stomach he hissed in his disappointment.

Letting his forehead fall to Tylah’s stomach, he groaned in quiet agony. “...shit....”

Tylah Tabris, his beloved Warden, was asleep, and he hadn’t the heart to awaken her.

XXX  
Fresh camp, post battle...  
XXX

Zevran was tired, cranky, and generally put out. Tylah still crawled into his pallet every few nights, but still appeared utterly oblivious to his advances. And the one time she had come in, and he had made sure to be nude under his blanket she had left in a flurry of apologies, scampering away. After that she had taken to asking him if he was ‘decent’ before ‘bothering’ him. Most aggravating was the fact that she thought her presence was a _burden_ when he didn’t see it that way at all. 

Frustrating, yes. Agonizing, sometimes. But burdensome? Absolutely never. 

Twitching his shoulders as he removed his armor, Zevran worked the sweaty straps loose. Tylah flopped down beside him, and began working on her plate greaves sighing happily as the weight fell free with clangs. He couldn’t help but echo her sigh of relief when she worked on his own greaves as he tossed his spaulders aside. Alistair walked by swayed and then fell face first into Tylah’s lap with seeming randomness.

Pushed past the levels of his tolerance, Zevran snapped, reaching down and hauling the _shem_ up by the back of his collar. “You insolent oaf! Why must you always do these things? To _my_ Tylah!” He wasn’t thinking clearly and his mastery of Ferelden slipped, but the straw that broke the camel’s back need not be a heavy one. Winding his arm back to slam it in Alistair’s surprised face, Zevran was brought up short by hands locking around his forearm. “None of you appreciate her the way _I_ do, and yet you persist in staring at her! At grabbing with your needy hands, looking at parts of her body that you have no right to!” Shaking Alistair, Zevran got in his face, ripping his arm free from whoever was holding him in place. “Who rushes in front of her to take blows? I do! Who talks her to sleep so that she can gain a moment of rest? _I DO!_ ” Not caring that he was raving, Zevran snarled. 

“Zevran! What’s gotten in to you?” Tylah grabbed his arm again before he could punch Alistair.

Dropping the _shemlen_ he turned to Tylah, jabbing a finger in the direction of the others. “Everybody insists upon touching you! Everybody continues _looking_ at your bosom and those divine legs and that soft mouth you possess! I see their avarice! I see it! And I am no longer going to stand for it! You are beautiful and good - and not fit for them to look at you like you are some _object_ to use as they will!” Grabbing her by the shoulders, Zevran gave her a little shake. “The other night I dreamed of you round and heavy with child, _waddling,_ and it was the most _beautiful_ thing in the Maker’s world!” Shaking her again, Zevran cried out, uncaring for the spectacle he was making. “Do you not feel the same? Why do you let these filthy people paw at you?” 

Surprisingly strong hands took hold of him and hauled him away from the others, even as he couldn’t stop his mouth from running. He couldn’t stop saying these things that had been bottled up, pouring the confusion out in a great flood. Zevran was still carrying on; all he could see was the red haze that demanded satisfaction and answers, when the ground rose up to meet his rear. Grunting, Zevran shook his head, only to realize that Tylah was straddling him, her hands taking hold of his head and he was cut off mid-sentence by soft lips pressing to his and a slick tongue invading his mouth.

Silenced, Zevran returned the kiss with the same ardor he had put into his crazed tirade. Groaning his protest when Tylah broke free, Zevran dipped his face attempting to reach her neck. However she held him back. Sometimes Tylah could be _so cruel_.

“Done?” Fingers tugged at his hair, forcing his head away from hers to meet her eyes.

Finding a pout working its way onto his face, Zevran groused. “Possibly. It depends.”

Tylah laughed at him, the sound musical even as she took each of his cheeks in hand, pinching them. “You are the most adorable friend I’ve ever had, did you know that?” 

The word ‘friend’ struck him like a physical blow, and Zevran tried to turn his face away, but Tylah’s mouth sought his out too fast for him to pull back. And once more he was swamped in the sensation of her lips and tongue, along with the realization that she was in his arms. Grasping her firmly to him, Zevran poured every ounce of his blasted, confusing _feelings_ into the kiss, praying it would be enough to sway Tylah from thinking of him as just a _friend_.

It was him who broke away first this time, panting. “Do you kiss all your friends in such a way?”

“No, just my best friend,” she replied, tracing his nose with a calloused fingertip.

“And who would be this most fortunate--” 

Once more he was lost until they separated, gasping for air, equally in need of oxygen. 

“Done yet?” Tylah asked him again.

Clearing his throat cautiously, Zevran side-stepped. “So.... what do best friends receive other than kisses of this nature?”

Her smile was impish. “Antivan massages.” His thoughts on how well the _last_ Antivan massage had gone must have shown clearly, for she laughed outright. “Ones where we don’t fall asleep until we’re _both_ satisfied.”

Unable to stop the grin from bursting across his face, Zevran kissed her raspberry soft lips. “Oh these _things_ you say, _amora_.”


End file.
